Country Diary

A new agricultural revolution is under way and Britain’s gamekeepers will have a major role to play in helping to achieve conservation goals

Abreathless hush fell. My fellow delegates turned as one as the chairman began to speak from the raised dais before us. These upturned faces were not indoor faces — they were burned and ruddy, rouged by the easterly winds and sun of Suffolk’s arable lands. Buttocks shifted uncomfortably on pews, these ranks of tweed-clad backsides more used to airsprung tractor seats. The long-awaited Suffolk Farming Conference had begun.

The event was held at Trinity Park, Ipswich, the ‘cathedral’ dedicated to our county’s agricultural heart. Farming is to Suffolk what coal mining is to County Durham or finance to the City. Agriculture is not only our biggest industry, it is the very thing that moulds the landscape and the people of this most easterly part of Britain.

In the past, the guest speakers would have informed the throng about innovations in tractors and drills. Accountants would have spoken on tax, lawyers on land law and agronomists on seed. This year, we were told everything that we once knew was now defunct. Farming and the countryside has changed and it will never be the same again.

Fallout

The fallout from the war in Ukraine has already been felt in East Anglia. About a third of global wheat production comes from Ukraine and Russia, meaning every single grain we harvest here in Suffolk is now more precious. The supplementary feeders we blithely topped up in 2021 are going to be topped up with considerably more circumspection in 2022.

Farmland, we were reminded, is no longer simply farmland. The food that it produces is merely one-third of its purpose. The fields where our food grows, and our pheasants wander, now have an equal role in carbon sequestration, biodiversity offsetting, public amenity provision, water filtration, air-quality improvement, habitat supply, energy provision and fuel delivery.

The land that was once something we more or less took for granted has now become a focal point for change.

Emily Norton, from property agent Savills, gave a state-of-the-union-style talk, offering an insight into the way all of this expectation for the land is to be paid for. The cushion of the old Common Agricultural Policy is no more. The Government promised farmers that they would not face any financial loss under the new system of food subsidy. That vow was shown to be paper thin. Financially, farming has been presented with a monumental challenge that will affect not only farmers today, but generations to come. We are living in a time of agricultural revolution.

The ramifications of all this for shooting are huge. Basics, such as the price of wheat or rising cost of land rents and sporting rights, are obvious. However, the issue of land use other than its core business of food growing is where opportunities arise.

Jake Fiennes, conservation director for the Holkham Estate, provided a vision of how these numerous challenges can be turned to the advantage of game and wildlife. The tale Jake told was one that would work in less rarefied lands. He and his farming and keepering teams have addressed the multiple roles that land is now expected to play and made it flesh.

Where government grants don’t exist — or are too restrictive — they have attracted private investment to fund conservation projects. They have used traditional methods, almost forgotten by modern farmers, to improve habitat and biodiversity. They have told their good news stories to the public, they have won hearts and minds. More importantly, they have quantified these successes by counting and noting the increased numbers of birds, wildflowers, insects and mammals that their efforts have produced.

I was told once that a good gamekeeper was the farm manager’s conscience. Never before has farming so needed the help and support of the practical conservationists otherwise known as good gamekeepers.

“Never before has farming so needed the help and support of good gamekeepers”

Richard Negus is a professional hedge layer and writer. He lives in Suffolk, is a keen wildfowler and a dedicated conservationist with a passion for grey partridges.

You’re so lucky being a keeper.” I wouldn’t mind a pound for every time I’ve heard that. And yes, I think I am extremely lucky to do the job I do. That said, you have to make sacrifices — moving your family from one end of the country to the other, or leaving friends behind, is essential to get on in this game.

Somebody once asked me what attributes make a good keeper. There are quite a few, but one thing you must be is selfish, at least where the job is concerned. More often than not, the job comes first — plans to go out must wait while you move birds or deal with foxes.

At this time of year, there are a lot of CVS flying about as keepers look to change positions or people attempt to get a foot on the keepering ladder. I have seen a lot of CVS over the years — some good, some bad. I always try to look beyond the CV and aim to get an understanding of the applicant. I’m not really worried about how many deer you have shot in the past or that you own 15 rifles and are a better shot than Billy the Kid.

The extra mile

I would rather know that you are willing to go the extra mile and that you understand the many different aspects that need to come together to make a successful shoot. I want to know that you are the one who will go back to double-check you shut the pen gate — even though you probably did.

I want to know you’re the one who wants to keep learning because, no matter what your age and experience, you’ll never stop in this job.

One of the things I have learned is to expect the unexpected, but even with that in mind, some things can still leave you shaking your head. A few years ago, when I was headkeeper on an estate in the

Midlands, I was orchestrating a large and slightly tricky partridge drive. The drive consisted of a number of small cover strips leading into a large area of game cover running downhill to a tall hedge, flanked on the left-hand side by a narrow belt of poplars. If everything went to plan, the results were outstanding.

At the midway point, it was going to plan. The partridges were coming from well back, and covey after covey were cruising towards the gunline. Some birds were carrying straight on and other coveys were pitching into the large crop. There was a

“No matter what your age or experience, you’ll never stop learning in this job”

steady pop, pop, pop of distant gunfire and, all the time, the main part of the drive was filling up. Happy days.

Oh, how things can change. All of a sudden, the shooting stopped. Birds started to test the flanks for weak spots with no response from the beaters and the radios were silent, apart from me inquiring what on earth was happening. Then it all became apparent. There was an unforgettable roar and a dark shadow loomed into view, flanked by what I believe were Spitfires — the last flight of the Vulcan bomber.

Now, if you think a wayward spaniel can empty a partridge drive, you want to try a Vulcan bomber. The drive exploded. Partridges went everywhere and disappeared over the horizon, closely followed by my sense of humour. The Guns, beaters and pickers-up alike stood in awe of the incredible spectacle. We completed the drive and I wandered across to the boss, who exclaimed: “Wow! You don’t see that every day.”

My blunt response was along the lines of: “No — and I’m rather glad we don’t.”

Expect the unexpected? Yeah, right.

Grey partridges are one of many species that will benefit from improved habitat management

Tasks such as dealing with foxes and checking trap lines often come first for a gamekeeper, with family life having to play second fiddle to the job